Chapter 3

Yet, the small tear didn’t stop my hunger.

Looking at the leg, I picked it up and gave it a lick, then took a bite.

It was the best meat I ever had in my life.

I cried as I feasted on it.

All the pain from just now was dulled. Blunted. Like something pressing cotton into the gaps of my skull, stuffing the sharp edges until they couldn’t cut anymore.

Blood trickled from my head, warm and slow, but I paid it no mind.

The meat in front of me had my full attention.

#^@&G^#(&G

DH*#_SF#!S

I flinched.

The was no pain now.

The sound didn’t stab into my head like before.

It passed through me.

I remembered the encounter just now.

But this one.
The one in front of me.
The one that hurt me.

It looked at me.

Admiring me.

I don’t know why that thought settled so easily in my chest.

As if this thing… was happy I had eaten the leg.

It tilted its head.

The smell of blood clung to the air. The forest-like building didn’t help at all. The smell of dead flesh—bodies of what I thought were human, mixed with something else—hung heavy and wet.

Yet, I wasn’t fazed.

I was starting to get used to it.

My legs still trembled as I pushed myself upright, chewing on what was left of the leg. The taste of iron in my mouth only made me want more.

The thing’s eyes followed my movement.

I braced myself for the attack it had done to me before.

But it didn’t attack.

It could have.

Instead, it stepped closer and lowered itself, its spine folding strangely as it crouched. Its tongue slid free from between yellowed teeth. It panted, tail twitching against the ground.

I swallowed hard.

!Y$^#H(HK{FH#
#&H_@*NMV

The sound made me calm now.

As if what it had done to me before didn’t matter anymore.

Forgiven.

I turned my head toward the other one.

The one with the missing leg.

The headache came roaring back.

My vision warped instantly, the shape of its body bending and collapsing in on itself. The closer I looked, the worse it became—like my eyes were trying to resolve something they weren’t allowed to. Pressure built behind my eyes, thick and swelling. My teeth clenched until my jaw ached.

It was still sitting where it had been before.

Blood pooled beneath it, dark and shining. The smell mixed into the forest air, tangled with rot and damp leaves, but still distinct enough to cut through everything else.

It smelled fresh.

My stomach twisted. Not in disgust.

In hunger.

Saliva flooded my mouth. I gagged, wiped my lips with the back of my hand, gagged again. The taste of iron lingered on my tongue, mixing with the memory of what I had just eaten.

It raised its hands.

Too many.

What—what was this thing? A dozen fingers? More? They fluttered, bent, curled into shapes that made no sense. The movement stabbed into my skull like a knife. I cried out, stumbling back a step, my heel catching on a root.

The pain sharpened.

This injured creature—shaped like me—opened its mouth wider.

A sound came out.

Not noise. Not nonsense.

Something worse.

The pressure spiked so violently I dropped to one knee, bile burning up my throat. My vision swam, the edges of the world dissolving. The moment my gaze slipped away, the pain receded, leaving me shaking, breathless, gasping like I’d been dragged underwater.

Yet, even as I turned away, I caught another glimpse of its hands.

One finger was extended.

Pointing.

At my pocket.

At the notebook.

My breath hitched.

Slowly, I reached inside and took it out.

Behind me, the other thing made a noise.

H_#B!)JF^}{PF

I turned.

It was watching the injured one now, ears perked, teeth bared. Its eyes flicked to me, then back again, alert and focused.

I flipped one of the pages on instinct.

&H_#$(#HF{OIF(#BKFN(H)HP@BFY#(@BKNFiv)GHPO#NF)(HNFUB&#GNIHFIJ#PHFJij_#&*!_)&#JNF()J#KNF})J

I braced myself.

Waited for the pressure. The spike. The pain tearing through my skull.

Nothing came.

No nausea. No splitting headache. No scream clawing its way up my throat.

This… creature beside me.

It allowed me to open the book.

I felt nothing.

The contents were still unreadable. Still meaningless. The symbols swam uselessly across the page.

But they didn’t hurt.

The injured one began to move.

Slowly, dragging itself forward. Fingers digging into the soil, leaving wet streaks behind. Its eyes stayed fixed on the notebook, wide and intent, as if that was all that mattered now.

As if it needed it.

It occurred to me then.

This creature beside me—despite our first encounter, despite what it had done—I didn’t care much anymore.

But the one without its leg?

That was the one trying to get into me.

The injured thing crawled closer, its body trembling, its shape still wrong in my eyes. Almost like me. Almost. But that was all I could make out before the pain exploded again.

I screamed, clutching my head, vision swimming violently. My stomach clenched hard, almost forcing the feast I’d just had back up my throat.

I laughed.

The sound burst out of me before I could stop it. Broken. Wrong.

The thing beside me reacted instantly, scrambling to my side, pressing its shoulder against my leg.

Warm.

Solid.

Something I could feel.
Something I could smell.
Something I could see.

This… animal.
Or creature.
I didn’t know what it was.

But I was sure of one thing.

The creature crawling toward me wanted the notebook so badly it was willing to endure the pain.

And that meant—

It wasn’t safe.

I stepped closer.

That thing.

It tried to scoot back, shoulders scraping against the bark, arms flailing like they were made of jelly—too loose, too weak to support its own weight. It shook its head.

Desperate.
Terror.

My headache flickered.

It returned for a moment, sharp and punishing, as if scolding me for looking at it again. The pain surged higher—then faltered. It wavered, lost its edge.

I blinked.

It was… gone?

As if something inside me had shifted. Maybe because of the sounds that came out of that other creature when I opened the book. Maybe because I had already crossed something I couldn’t go back from.

Either the pain was gone.
Or I was numb to it.

I didn’t care.

The hunger flared again, sudden and violent. My stomach clenched, saliva pooling in my mouth. Looking at the injured shape in front of me, the thought arrived fully formed.

I want to eat it.

Another thought followed.

Something about a word.
Human.

It surfaced weakly, like a bubble rising through thick mud. Then it popped. Slid off my mind the moment it formed. It didn’t stick. It didn’t stay.

And I was okay with that.

I grabbed a rock.

It was rectangular—too smooth to be a real rock—but in my hands, it was a rock. Details didn’t matter. Meaning didn’t matter. The weight was honest. The shape was enough.

I tightened my grip around it.

I didn’t know what was driving me.

Hunger.
Thirst.
Eliminating a threat.

I had no idea.

But I knew one thing.

I wanted to kill this thing.

And I wanted to feast on it.

The blood trailing from its body was more alluring than anything I had ever felt in my life. It glistened against the dirt, dark and wet, promising something I needed without knowing why.

The injured thing opened its mouth. Its jaw moved. Its throat worked. A sound came out.

I still couldn’t understand it.

Standing this close, I could finally see its shape more clearly.

This thing shaped like me—only taller. Thinner at the top, heavier below. Awkwardly proportioned, like those stick figures I drew as a kid, when I didn’t know how bodies were supposed to look.

That was all my mind could manage.

It raised its long, branch-like arms in front of its face.

It didn’t matter.

The full force of my downward swing crushed through them.

The first sound my ears registered was a crack.

Then a wet sound followed—soft, bursting.

Like a watermelon smashed open.

And that was exactly what I was doing.

The impact jarred my arm up to the shoulder. The injured thing jerked violently, choked, and the gesture broke apart into a spasm. I stared at it, breath coming fast, and felt my appetite grow even stronger.

I brought the rock down again.

And again.

Blood splashed up onto my hands, my face, my clothes. I stopped for a moment, dipped my fingers into it, and licked them clean. The taste hit my tongue—iron, thick and warm, with a faint sweetness underneath.

The same sweetness as the leg.

I smiled.

I kept swinging until a sound behind me pulled me back into the world.

(#HIF)@!!)~OJF_##))(+:F:{

I turned my head.

The creature from before stood beside me now. So close I could smell it again—the wounds, the pus, the boils, the damp rot clinging to its fur. The smell should have driven me away.

It didn’t.

It felt like the next best thing in the world.

Ignoring it, my hands moved without hesitation. Fingers dug into cloth that matched mine, into skin that had been warm only moments ago and was already turning cold. My stomach growled, loud and animal. The sound filled me with a strange shame that dissolved as soon as it appeared.

I leaned in.

I devoured the thing in front of me hungrily, gobbling it as fast as I could.

I don’t remember the first bite.

I don’t remember what I thought.

All I knew was that I needed to consume this… thing. Needed it the way I once needed food placed in front of me by hands I could almost remember.

My mother.

I missed her cooking.

Where was she now?

The thought flickered briefly—fragile, distant—before being brushed aside by the meal in front of me.

Nothing else mattered.

I finished the meal and breathed a sigh of relief.

I felt full.

Blood coated my hands, my clothes, my face. Despite the iron stink, it was a perfume to me now. I licked my lips and swallowed, my stomach heavy and satisfied.

That was when it shifted beside me.

The creature stood there, staring at me. At what I had done.

My chest tightened. Not with fear. With want.

I wanted its approval.
Its acceptance.

I didn’t know why that mattered so much, only that it did.

It made a sound.

!(s(#)(Fmi38=084FG3

I smiled.

It felt like I was beginning to understand it. Or maybe like understanding was no longer necessary.

Then—

It lunged.

The impact tore the air from my lungs. I slammed into the ground, dirt flooding my mouth. Before I could move, its claws pinned my shoulders, sinking deep into flesh. Pain flared bright and sharp, cutting through everything I had dulled.

I screamed.

It didn’t react.

Its face lowered beside mine. I felt its breath — hot, wet, familiar. Close enough to feel like intimacy.

It whispered.

*)()*jsbk(*Y)#*H_:{OG

The sound felt like laughter.

Mocking.

My vision dimmed as blood pooled beneath me, warm at first, then cold. My body refused to respond. Refused to fight.

The final understanding didn’t come as words.

It came as certainty.

I was never meant to choose.
Never meant to survive.

This wasn’t punishment.

This was correction.

And then there was nothing left to misunderstand.